


Oui Means Yes

by Wondersland



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-23 04:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11395800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wondersland/pseuds/Wondersland
Summary: Draco's first language is French, and it doesn't seem to bother Harry until the summer after his fourth year. What happens when the war is over and everyone is left to pick up the pieces?





	1. Chapter 1

Harry  
They told us we were going to be sorted by this at and then put in houses. Okay, that fits in with this weird magic that I have witnessed this far. So, for now, we stood on the stairs waiting to be ushered into the hall. I stood next to my new friend, Ron, I reminded myself. He was nice, and he liked candy even more than me, if that was possible.  
Looking around I noticed a boy staring at me, and when our eyes locked he winked and gave a small smile. His white hair was slicked back, and his well-tailored robes still hung on his small frame. I returned the smile and continued to look around, my eyes constantly being drawn back to the white-haired boy.  
“Draco Malfoy,” the witch called from next to the stool with the hat on it.  
The white-haired boy came up and sat gingerly upon the stool. So, his name is Draco M…something. Well that is an interesting name. Maybe it is something with the wizarding world and weird names, Harry thought to himself.  
The witch placed the hat upon the boy, Draco’s, head.  
“Slytherin!” it shouted to the crowd.  
Draco’s eyes lit up and he scampered over to join his new house mates. I watched as he nodded his hello’s and whispered quietly with the other new Slytherin’s. I was glad that he was at least happy, even though I had heard that that was a house that you didn’t want to end up in.  
HDHDHDHDHD  
Harry didn’t think much more about Draco until he had their second encounter about two months into school.  
Harry was coming out of their shared potions class, flanked as always by Hermione and Ron. Draco seemed to be in a rush and pushed pasted Hermione causing his books to spill across the dungeon floor.  
“Watch it, sang de bourbe,” Draco snapped at her, before he bent over to pick up his books.  
“What did you call her?” Harry stood in front of Hermione, fixing Draco with a glare.  
Draco’s face set into a smirk. “What is called here…mudblood.”  
What did that mean? Harry turned confused to Ron, who was more versed in the wording of the wizarding world.  
“Just buzz off, blondie,” Ron motioned for him to go away.  
Draco fixed them with one last glare before turning on his heal and striding down the corridor.  
This is how the majority of their encounters went for the next couple of years. Draco insulting Harry and his friends, them insulting him back. Trading glares in the hallway. Harry came to learn that Draco’s first language was French. No one dared make fun of him for his broken English, in fear that they would be cursed or at least hit, by the blond Slytherin. No one could compare to the animosity between Harry, who everyone considered the-boy-who-lived, and Draco, who everyone thought was being groomed to be a death eater.  
This all changed during their fifth year.


	2. Chapter 2

As the years had dragged on, Harry had spent more and more time thinking about Malfoy. He rationalized it under the guise of being concerned about Malfoy, and his connection to Voldemort.  
It was the summer between his fourth and fifth year that Harry came to terms with the fact that he was gay. He had spent the majority of the summer working through those feelings he had pushed away for so long, if only to avoid dealing with the feeling surrounding Cedric and the events of last year. Having it haunt him in his dreams was bad enough, he chose not to voluntarily dwell on the subject.  
Getting on the train, Harry knew he had to tell Ron about him being gay. He just couldn’t deal with keeping such a big secret from his best friend, but it was something he felt best done in person so he could gage his friend’s reaction.  
So, when Hermione excused herself for the loo, Harry pounced on the opportunity.  
“Want to track down the Trolley Witch? I have been dying for some sweats. Mum has banned them from the house,” Ron said, turning his attention to the compartment door.  
“I think I am gay,” Harry blurted out. That is not how he wanted to broach the subject, but words had never been his strong suit. His cheeks tinted pink, as he focused on a string coming from the hem of his shirt.  
“Oh. Well, that’s cool. So…you don’t want candy?”  
Harry’s eyes snapped to meet Ron’s, and Ron laughed at the shocked expression found there.  
“You don’t have a problem with it?” Harry asked, needing reassurance.  
“Yeah. Charlie is gay. It’s really no big deal,” Ron fixed him with a sly smile. “Just don’t be making out with blokes in my bed.”  
Harry let out a nervous laugh and tried to relax back into his seat. They talked a little more about the upcoming Quidditch season before Harry’s curiosity overcame him.  
“In the wizarding world, how is being gay…received?” Harry bit his lip nervously, knowing full well how hard it would be to be gay in the muggle world.  
Ron shifted in his seat. “Well, most people think it is just a bid for attention. Charlie is really only out to the family, and his boyfriend, obviously. It is hard I guess.”  
“So…if the press got a hold of it…?”  
“There would catch some major flack man,” Ron said, looking apologetic. “I’m cool with it though! And I’m sure the rest of the fam would be cool with it too! They were fine when Charlie came out.”  
Harry nodded, for the millionth time thanking whoever was up there that he found a sort of family with the Weasley’s. “Let’s just keep it between us for now. Alright?”  
“No problem! Should we tell ‘Mionie?”  
Harry loosened a laugh, “I’m pretty sure she already knows.”  
“There are no surprises with that one,” Ron nodded in agreement, and their conversation turned back to Quidditch.   
HDHDHDHDHD  
At the opening feast, Harry found his eyes drifting over to Malfoy. He was just pushing his food around with his fork, his head resting in his hand. He looked distraught.  
I wonder what’s wrong with him, Harry thought. Usually Malfoy would at least look up and fix him with that annoying sneer he was known for. Malfoy, however, kept his head down leaving Harry’s eyes free to wander over his features. Maturity had done Malfoy well, and his cheek bones were well defined and his hare fell gracefully over his forehead, no longer gelled into submission but still styled. His figure was still lithe, but he had grown and his cloths hinted at a well-muscled frame, probably from Quidditch, Harry concluded. He looks so sad, Malfoy had dark circles under his eyes, and would yawn every now and then. It was nothing compared to the previous years, where Malfoy was excited as anyone to be back in school, no matter how hard he tried to hide the excitement.  
Maybe I have been paying too much attention to Malfoy. But who could blame me? He is a very good looking bloke. Harry blushed at his own thoughts. Had he always thought that Malfoy was attractive and now only had the words to describe it? Or was it because he had just come to terms with being gay, and he was putting his need to fancy someone on Malfoy? He could never ACTUALLY fancy Malfoy.  
Ron’s elbow nudging him in the side brought Harry’s attention back to his friends. “What’s up?”  
“What’s got you so absorbed?” Ron followed his gaze to Malfoy. “What do you think his problem is? His daddy take away his allowance?”  
“I think he’s just…sad,” Harry’s eyes returned to Malfoy. “Doesn’t he look sad?”  
Hermione gave Harry a knowing look. “You thinking of cheering him up?”  
“What do you mean, ‘Mionie?” Ron looked confused.   
Harry blushed and focused on his food. “I hear we have a new Quidditch training schedule this year.”  
“What?! Really?!” Ron went on to ramble about how this was going to affect his attempts at passing his lessons this year.  
Harry smiled shyly at Hermione, and she smirked back.  
HDHDHDHDHD  
Later that week Harry found himself unable to sleep. He pulled himself out of bed, deciding to wander around the castle. He grabbed the map, and set off.  
About an hour later Harry found himself wandering up to the astronomy tower. He liked the view, and the cold was something he could always deal with.  
He was at the bottom of the last staircase when a voice drifted down to him. Someone was up there, and they were shouting, the wind making it impossible for him to figure out who it was. Before fear could make him turn around, he walked the rest of the way into the tower to find Malfoy at the railing, gazing over the darkened grounds.  
Harry cleared his throat, and Malfoy spun to face him, becoming tense. “Que faites-vous hors du lit?” Malfoy snapped, crossing his arms across his chest. He didn’t seem to notice that he had spoken in French.  
“Uhh…I…” Harry didn’t want to point out Malfoy’s slip. He really wasn’t in the mood to fight. And, to be honest, Malfoy himself was quite distracting. He was backlit by the dim light pouring through the opening in the tower, making his pale skin and hair glow. He looked positively ethereal.   
“Well? Spit out, Potter,” Malfoy’s eyes hardened as he scanned Harry from head to toe.  
Harry dropped his gaze to the floor, feeling exposed under the blonde’s gaze. He was thankful for his tan complexion, hoping to blend in with the surrounding shadows. “I…uhh…you spoke in French. And I…I don’t speak French.”  
Harry chanced a look at Malfoy, and it was only a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks that gave away the effect Harry’s words had on him.  
“What are you doing out of the bed?” Malfoy’s glare getting stronger.  
“I just couldn’t sleep,” Harry admitted with a shrug.  
Malfoy nodded and turned back to face the dark grounds.  
Well, he wasn’t going to just stand here in silence. Conversation was the preferable option. “Why are you out of the bed…bed!” Harry flushed. “Why are you out of bed?” Harry bit his lip. Well, that went beautifully.  
Malfoy turned back to face Harry and stalked over to him slowly, his grey eyes cold. He stopped a breath away from Harry, looking down his nose at him. How he managed to do that when they were the same height was beyond Harry. “Are you mocking me?”  
“No!” Harry took a step backward, forcing himself to swallow. “I wasn’t mocking you.”  
“Oh really?”  
“Yeah! Really!”  
Malfoy huffs and rolls his eyes.  
“Why can’t you believe that someone is actually being nice to you!” Harry was starting to get annoyed. It was an honest mistake, and he hadn’t meant to upset Malfoy.  
“You? Be nice?” Malfoy sneered.  
“I am always nice!” Harry snapped.  
Malfoy moved until their noses were almost touching. “Saint Potter toujours vouloir que les gens s'inclinent devant lui. Se moquer de moi encore et voir où ça prend un rat comme vous,” with that he turned and stormed down the stairs. (saint potter always wanting people to bow before him. Mock me again and see where that gets a rat like you)  
Harry felt his cheeks burn as he turned to watch Malfoy leave. He had no idea what the blonde had said, but hearing the emotion behind his French was enticing, and he really didn’t care if he had just been insulted. He had a weird feeling in his stomach that he couldn’t quite place.  
After a little while, Harry went back to bed. The funny feeling in his stomach never going away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the French is a little off in this chapter, but I promise it gets better in later ones!


	3. Look But Don't Touch

The next day in potions Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off of Draco. He was two rows in front of him and slightly to the left, which left Harry with a perfect view of his back and profile. Harry’s eyes scanned over and over the oblivious blonde, until Ron got his attention back on the potion they were supposed to be making.  
“I have no idea why I even need to take this stupid class,” Ron was saying.  
Harry simply nods in agreement, reading over the ingredients list for the third time. Why were five things so hard to remember?!  
“At least they didn’t make us work with the Slytherin’s this time,” Ron nodded his head toward where the Slytherin’s, including Draco, were seated.  
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, not quite hearing what Ron had said.  
“I hear they are all bummed that they are going to lose the Quidditch Cup again this year,” Ron said in a slightly raised tone.  
That got Harry’s attention and he glanced over at Draco to see one of his friends nudge his shoulder and motion over towards them.  
Not wanting to start any more conflict Harry tried to calm Ron down. “I wouldn’t say they are out of it…I mean no one has played a game yet.”  
Ron’s eyebrows rose in shock. “You saying you think they could win?”  
“No…I guess I just-”  
“Because Malfoy has yet to beat you in…well, ever,” Ron smirked, raising his voice again.  
“I…” Harry bit his lip and forced himself not to look at Draco.  
“You think he stands a chance?”  
“I know he doesn’t, but that’s not the point.”  
“You don’t think we have chance?” Draco snapped from his work station.  
Harry turned to face him, and found him being confronted by Malfoy’s smirk and cold eyes. Not wanting to seem weak in front of his fellow house mates, Harry puffed out his chest and snapped back, “I know you don’t.”  
Malfoy took a moment to share a light laugh with the other Slytherin’s before turning back to Harry and Ron. “I’d be careful how big you boast, Potter.”  
“Or what?” Ron instigated, clearly finding potions a lot more fun now.  
“Daddy going to buy you the win?” Harry returned Malfoy’s smirk.  
Malfoy’s eyes became colder and his posture stiff. “We could fly cercles autour de votre équipe de deuxième taux, pouvez-vous obtenir que par votre crâne épais?” Malfoy bit back then turned back to the work bench and continued slicing potions ingredients.  
Harry blushed and ducked his head, pretending to read from the book.  
“Dude…are you feeling okay?” Ron said, poking him in the side.  
“Fine.”  
“Your cheeks are red.”  
“I said I’m fine,” Harry willed his cheeks to cool off.  
“Are you blushing!” Ron whispered, bumping their shoulders.  
That was when Snape decided that he had had enough of their class and dismissed them. Harry could have hugged the grumpy professor. He shoved his belongings into his bag and rushed out of class, keeping his head down.  
“Harry!” Ron called after him, but Harry just kept walking to his next lesson. It was the first time in his whole time at Hogwarts that he was early for a class.  
HDHDHDHDHD  
“Harry blushed in potions today,” Ron said in-between mouthfuls of food. They were at dinner later that night.  
Harry glared at Ron from across the table and he just smirked back.  
Hermione smiled. “Oh really? What caused that?”  
Harry just shrugged, focusing on pushing his food around his plate.  
“Don’t you share potions with the Slytherin’s?” Hermione smirked.  
“Yeah. What does that have to do with anything?” Ron fixed Hermione with a confused look.  
“Oh, nothing I guess,” Hermione focused on Harry.  
“I think I’ll head to bed,” Harry said, pushing himself up from the table. “Want to get some flying in tomorrow.”  
“See you later man!” Ron waved him off.  
On his way out Harry chanced a glanced over at the Slytherin table and found Malfoy with his head down, sitting in the middle of kids from their year, but he looked all alone. No one was talking to him, and he seemed to be curling in on himself.  
I wonder what’s got Malfoy all down, Harry wondered as he made his way back to the dorm.  
HDHDHDHDHD  
Turned out Harry couldn’t go flying the next day. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and he would much rather spend it going through the shops with his friends.  
They had been wandering around the village for a good part of the morning, and into the afternoon. Harry had a bag full of school supplies that he forgot to but before term started, along with some sweets of course.  
Now Harry was wondering around the outskirts of Hogsmeade looking for Ron and Hermione. He wasn’t really looking that hard, knowing that they probably wanted sometime to themselves, but he had gotten bored looking at different quills. So, he opted to walk around by the woods.  
When he came around the corner in a trail he spotted Draco and his father. They appeared to be engaged in a heated conversation a little way down the trail. Harry, overcome by curiosity, hid himself in the thick of the trees, and made his way toward the Malfoy’s so that he could better hear their conversation. When he was close enough he peaked around one of the larger trees so that he could better observe the interaction.  
“Now, onto the matter of your grades,” Lucius was saying.  
“My grades will be fine. I just had bad week,” Draco’s voice was weak, almost as if he expected his father to not believe him before he even spoke.  
“You just had A bad week,” Lucius let out a long sigh. “Honestly, Draco. It’s as though you aren’t even trying.”  
“In my schooling?”  
“Don’t get smart with me,” Lucius snapped.  
Draco dropped his gaze to the snow between their shoes.  
Why wasn’t he standing up for himself? It was an honest question and he obviously meant no malice behind it. Harry was genuinely confused by it all.  
“Your English, Draco, is atrocious.”  
Draco was silent.  
“Why do I bother hiring you tutors when you are useless?”  
Again, Draco answered his father with silence.  
Lucius stepped towards his son and forced Draco’s chin up so their eyes met. “You will answer me.”  
“Mother speaks French,” Draco said, gaining some power behind his voice.  
“Your mother spoke French,” Lucius’s voice laced with annoyance. “Why do I even bother with you?”  
“Vous êtes juste en travers parce que la mère m'a aimé plus qu'elle ne vous a jamais aimé,” Draco snapped back, his eyes a blaze, body tense. (You are just cross because mother loved me more than she ever loved you.)  
Lucius’s hand whipped out and stuck Draco across the face, his head snapping to the side, the crack ringing out across the empty trail.  
Draco turned his face slowly back to look his father in the eyes. From this angle, Harry could clearly see the angry red mark blossoming across Draco’s cheekbone. It was in stark contrast against his ivory skin.  
“You will live up to your name, or you will not have it all,” Lucius said, his voice like ice. Then he turned and strode down the trail, away from Hogsmeade.  
When he was out of sight, Draco’s body relaxed and his shoulders sagged. He pulled his coat tighter around his thin frame and turned to face the forest where Harry was watching.  
Harry quickly ducked behind the tree, but he obviously wasn’t fast enough.  
“Enjoy show, Potter?”


	4. I'm Not Helpless

Harry took a breath and talked through the snow to join Draco on the trail.   
“Are you alright?” Harry asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.  
Draco cocked an eyebrow. “Not going ask how I knew you there?”  
Harry simply shrugged. He didn’t really care, he knew full well that he was a horrible spy and figured he had made so much noise that it was obvious.  
“Would you like me to heal your face,” Harry pulled out his wand.  
Draco took a step back, “Ne venez pas…don’t come near me with that.” Draco pulled out his own wand.   
Harry sighed. “I’m not going to curse you. That is going to hurt later is all. How are you going to explain the massive bruise on your face to people?”  
Draco bit his lip, but still looked apprehensive, not putting his wand away.  
“He meant for it to hurt,” Draco said after a minute.  
“Doesn’t mean it should.”  
“Why should I trust you?” Draco glanced between Harry’s eyes and his wand.  
Harry sighed. Clearly I’m the type of person to curse you when you’re down. I would have done it by now if that was my intention, blondie. Harry slipped his wand back into his pocket. “I’ll do it wandless then.” Before Draco could object, Harry cupped Draco’s injured cheek with his hand gently. His skin was so soft under Harry’s callused hand, and Harry pushed down the urge to caress the injured flesh.  
Draco’s eyes widened comedically, but he did not object or move away.  
Harry took that as approval and closed his eyes. He focused on removing the hurt from under his palm and smiled when he felt a warm sensation spread from his hand into Draco’s skin. When the sensation faded away Harry opened his eyes and looked at Draco.  
Draco had closed his eyes, and leaned his head into Harry’s hand. He looks so at peace. And his skin is so soft. I wonder if his lips are as soft. Harry blushed lightly and removed his hand, causing Draco’s eyes to snap open.  
The skin had healed, and Harry smiled to himself. “I should get going…friends and all.”  
Harry strode off quickly. Wow! That was awkward! You just had to go heal him with your hands didn’t you! Harry sighed.  
Harry chanced a look over his shoulder, and found the blonde watching him leave.  
HDHDHDHDHD  
Draco lay in his bed that night staring at the sealing. He couldn’t sleep, again. And, again, it was due to Potter. Today he had not only seen his father hit him, but he had also had the audacity to heal Draco’s bruise. Who did he think he was? Did he think Draco wasn’t capable of healing himself? If only he knew how many times Draco had had to heal his own bruises.  
He sighed and pulled the curtains closed around his bed. This was getting ridiculous. Sleep should be something that everyone could attain, yet it evaded him.  
His thoughts wandered back to Potter and the feel of his hand on his cheek. He had pushed those thoughts away all day, not wanting to be caught blushing around his house mates. Here he was safe to react however he wanted, safely tucked away behind his bed curtains.   
Pulling his wand out from under the covers Draco quickly cast a silencing spell around his bed, he had the bad habit of talking out loud when he was thinking hard about something.  
When Potter was healing him it made him feel so warm, and safe, that he had even had the audacity to close his eyes. Draco blushed, he had had romantic thoughts about Potter for a while now, but he never thought anything would come from it.  
On the other hand, maybe he was being ridiculous. Potter was obviously just doing the kind thing and healing him. In Potter’s mind, he probably thought he was saving Draco from embarrassment.   
Draco hadn’t known Potter was even watching until after his father hit him. He had felt a wave of magic ripple over his shin, and he knew right away that it was Potter. He would have been able to recognize his magic anywhere. Draco’s own magic reacted to feeling Potters, and reached out towards him. That’s when he glanced those piercing green eyes peeking out from behind a tree. Good thing his father left shortly after, Draco had used up almost all of his self-control to keep himself from looking over at Potter.  
Potter probably just wanted to save another helpless soul. There could be no way that he acted out of romantic feelings. Potter couldn’t be gay.   
Then there was the fact that Potter could apparently heal people with wandless magic. That was a very rate talent. As far as Draco knew it also took a lot of power. And obviously, Potter could control it, because his face was fine. Draco wondered if Potter knew how much power he had under his control, or if the boy was oblivious as always.  
Draco new one thing for sure, he would take a thousand hits from his father if that meant getting to feel Potter’s hand on his cheek one more time. The problem was, Draco would never tell anyone this.  
HDHDHDHDHD  
Draco didn’t see Potter again until Wednesday. He was walking to the dungeons to work on some potions, and Potter was walking in the opposite direction and he looked pissed. Draco could feel the air crackling around him, even before he got within ear shot.  
“Everything alright,” Draco asked when he was a couple paces away.  
“Why do you care?” Harry snapped back, his magic lashing out making Draco stumble backwards.  
When he regained his footing, he smoothed his jumper. “I was just trying to be polite.”  
“Right,” Harry ran his hand through his unruly hair. “Sorry. It’s just been a shit of a day.”  
“I can tell that.”  
“Don’t be a gitt about it.”  
Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault that you can’t keep your emotions under control.” It was clear that Harry was fraying at the edges, for whatever reason, and Draco just couldn’t help but pull at the threads.  
“Not everyone has your masterful control, Malfoy,” Harry snapped back, his voice like ice. Draco felt the crackle of magic fill the air around them.  
“Maybe you should try harder, Potter.”  
“Why doesn’t everyone just mind their own damn business!”  
Draco was hurled against the stone wall by Harry’s magic. His own magic wrapped itself around Draco to lessen the impact.  
“Oof” Draco called out and stood there, looking at Harry, fear in his eyes.  
“I’m sorry…I…are you alright?” Harry reached out for him.  
Draco moved out of his reach and fixed his bag over his shoulder. “Does this happen often?”  
Harry bit his lip. “Only when I get really upset. Did I hurt you?”  
“No. I’m not helpless.”  
“I didn’t m-”  
“I know,” Draco sighed. “You don’t have to worry about hurting me.” With that Draco strode off down toward the potion class room.


End file.
